Supporting Grief
by hermin22
Summary: When the going gets rough, one knew their true companions, even when one didn't have any experience in it.
1. Chapter 1

Hermione's heart beat fast and hard in her chest. It was a natural thing to do for her, but now that she was here, she wasn't sure if it was such a great idea. Having knocked on the door already, there was no turning back now.

It took so long that Hermione was about to leave, but then the door suddenly opened.

"Miss Granger." Hermione knew that voice better than any other, but she had rarely heard it sounding so surprised.

"Professor McGonagall," the young woman greeted, suddenly feeling very unsure.

"To what do I own the pleasure of your visit?" the surprised witch asked.

"Oh well, it is Christmas eve and I thought, well…"

"You thought I would be alone," Minerva McGonagall finished for her, hitting the nail on the head.

Hermione blushed instantly. "I am so sorry. How awful of me to assume such a thing! I'm just… well, I'm going. Have a Merry Christmas, Professor. I am so sorry to have disturbed you." Hermione was thoroughly embarrassed and turned to leave, but a gentle hand on her arm stopped her departure.

"Miss Granger, I am sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Please do come in. I appreciate your visit." She opened the door a little more and gestured for her former pupil to enter.

Seeing the young witch hesitate, she added, "Please, Miss Granger."

Hermione nodded and shyly entered the small but cozy house. She followed her former Head of House into the sitting room, her eyebrows knitting in concern when she saw how heavily the elder woman leaned on her walking stick. It was no news to her that her old professor suffered serve injuries from the last war, but when in public she obviously hid it much better.

"Please sit, Miss Granger. Would you care for a cup of tea?" Professor McGonagall asked, after Hermione sat down in the armchair opposite the sofa she herself had just left.

"Yes, that would be nice. Thank you." Hermione used the temporary absence of the owner of the house to look around. It was small and very homey and lovely decorated, but there was not one Christmas decoration to be found. And to Hermione's surprise, no tree.

"Here you go." The Professor handed Hermione a cup of hot ginger and lemon tea, Hermione's favorite.

"Thank you." Hermione smiled shyly. "Again, I am sorry for such an intrusion. I don't know what I've been thinking."

"You thought that I was alone," she said kindly. "What surprises me more, is how you found out where I live?" There was not one person alive on this earth who knew about this place, deep in the Scottish woods.

"Professor Dumbledore, well – his portrait in the ministry, advised me to look here."

Of course. "He did now, didn't he?"

Hermione placed her cup on the small table beside her. "Professor, maybe I should go. You don't look very pleased and I really didn't mean to intrude."

"I apologize for giving you that feeling. I really appreciate your visit, but I fear I am not the best of company." The old witch's look was downcast and she looked lost, guilt flooding her veins for giving this wonderful and kind young woman the feeling of not being welcome.

Seeing the defeated posture and the sad look in her professor's face, Hermione answered, "Oh please, even unconscious you were better company to me than every other person."

A small smile crept over the other witch's lips. "You always knew what to say, Miss Granger."

Satisfied with the small smile she saw, Hermione addressed another sensitive subject. "Professor, would you mind calling me Hermione?"

"It would be my pleasure, but only if you call me Minerva." Feeling more relaxed, Minerva leaned back in her chair. "Are you not celebrating with Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley this festive period?"

Hermione shook her head. She had been invited of course, but the thought that her beloved Professor might be alone on Christmas caused her to decline, much to Ron's irritation. "No, not this year. I wanted to visit you. "

"That was very thoughtful of you, Hermione." The older woman whispered, touched that Hermione had thought of her.

"You have a lovely home, Profe… Minerva." It was true. It reminded Hermione a bit of her private quarters at Hogwarts.

"Thank you. It is not big, but I usually only spend the summers here. I think it is the very first time I am spending the Christmas holidays here."

"Of course. How come that you don't have a Christmas tree?" Hermione asked, wondering if there was a different room that was used for the celebration.

Minerva felt her eyes watering at Hermione's innocent question. "Since my hus… well, I didn't feel like celebrating this year."

Hermione's sharp mind noticed the slip immediately. "You are married?" She asked shocked.

Minerva closed her eyes. "I was."

"But with…" Then it hit Hermione. "Professor Dumbledore," she whispered hoarsely.

A murmured spell lifted the concealment charm on the slightly shaking hand, revealing a simple golden ring.

Hermione sank to her knees and took the hand in hers, carefully touching the ring with her fingertips. She couldn't believe she had not known. Her eyes tearing up, she looked at the widow's face, for the first time seeing all the sorrow and grief the older woman felt.

"Minerva, I am so very sorry. Does anyone know? Did you have someone by your side when it happened?"

Tears started streaming down the older woman's face when she shook her head. "No one knows."

Hermione got up and sat next to the crying woman, gathering her in her arms. "I am so very, very sorry. I can't imagine what you've been through these past month." Gently rocking Minerva back and forth, she soothed, "I'm here now. I know you didn't have any time to grieve." The sobbing increased and Hermione started to rub comforting circles on the widow's back. "Shh.. it's all right. Just let it all out. I've got you now."

It was like the flood gates were finally opened and all the bottled up emotions came out all at once. She couldn't think, she couldn't feel, she could hardly breath, and all she could do was cry like she never had before. Cry for her husband, for all the good people who had died during the war, for her own injuries and cry of fear for her new job, not knowing if she could do it.

She was barely aware that Hermione had pulled her down, but she registered that her head was now in Hermione's lap, pressing into the young woman's stomach. At some point she closed her eyes, letting Hermione's soothing strokes and gentle patting lull her into a slight slumber.

Hermione quietly summoned the green tartan blanket from the armchair by the fire and covered the sleeping woman. Lost in her own thoughts, she absentmindedly let her fingers glide through Minerva's hair. The death of Professor Dumbledore was hard on everyone and a great loss for the whole wizarding world. He was the shining figure of light and the world still seemed a little darker without him and probably always would for those who knew him. Knowing him… Who could say that when nobody ever knew he was married? Rumor had it that the Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore were a couple of course, but then again, there were rumors that Professor Snape and Professor Trelawney were a couple as well.

They were married. How incredibly hard it must have been for Minerva to cope with the death of her husband without letting anyone know of their marriage. It was a small miracle that the elder woman was still here now. Did she know he would die? Did he say goodbye?

Hermione's thoughts were interrupted when she felt Minerva slightly stir. The change in the elder woman's breathing told Hermione that she was awake. There was nothing she could possibly say, so Hermione quietly resumed stroking Minerva's hair, trying to give whatever comfort she could. She knew it wasn't much.

"I'm so sorry," Minerva said quietly, barely understandable with her face still pressed against Hermione's stomach. A moment later she sat up and was about to leave when Hermione grabbed her arm. She knew if she'd let go now, Minerva would restore her walls and hide her pain behind them.

"Don't apologize and don't go," Hermione said, tugging at the older woman's arm. "Come and sit with me."

"Hermione, I…" she tried to protest, but the young witch just shook her head and pulled her mentor down.

"No. Just sit here with me and let it happen. Whatever you feel now, it's all right. Just let it happen," Hermione soothed and moved a little closer. Tugging her feet under her, she let her side rest against Minerva's and placed her right arm around the older woman's shoulder, pulling her a little closer.

She knew Minerva was a little uncomfortable and floored at the moment and thus she tried her best to soothe her, covering them both with the blanket, and holding Minerva's hand within her own.

When the grieving woman seemed a little calmer, Hermione quietly offered, " You know, it is fine with me when you don't want to talk, but I need you to know that I am here to listen if you do want to talk about it. I thought that after having to hide your marriage for so long, you might want to finally share stories of your life. Either way is fine with me."

The young woman's offer was met with silence for a long time.

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><p><em>I know, I know... There will be updates on my other stories soon. Writers block, I guess. <em>

_For now, please enjoy the first chapter of my new story and review if you like it._


	2. Chapter 2

Suddenly, Minerva stood up and left the room, leaving Hermione behind. A deep sigh escaped the girl's mouth. She had hoped that her old professor would allow herself some comfort, maybe even open up and talk, but that obviously wasn't the case. Knowing the stern professor, it was no big surprise, of course.

Hermione was just about to go, when the door opened and Minerva entered with a white scrapbook in one hand, a bottle of Firewhiskey in the other.

To Hermione's surprise, the elder witch sat back down next to her. For a while she just sat there, staring at the scrapbook. As curious as Hermione was, she didn't ask. Instead she draped the blanket over the widow's knees and summoned two glasses, filling them with Firewhiskey. It seemed they both could do with a drink.

Minerva took a long sip, before opening the slightly yellowed cover. "Would you like to see our wedding album?" she whispered, her voice still rough from her earlier crying. The dark circles under her eyes were more prominent than ever.

"Yes, I'd love to see it." Dust from turning the old pages that held the secret memories of the grieving woman danced in the soft afternoon light. The first photo showed a much younger Minerva in the arms of Albus Dumbledore, laughing as if they hadn't a care in the world. He looked very handsome, dressed in a traditional Scottish kilt. Hermione didn't know very much about tartans, but this one was definitely a McGonagall clan one. Minerva was dressed in a long, white and beautiful wedding dress, looking absolutely breathtaking.

"Oh Minerva, you were such an amazingly beautiful bride," Hermione whispered. She was so busy staring at the picture that she had missed the tears streaming down the older woman's face. Only the heart wrenching sob beside her brought her attention back. She put an arm around Minerva and gently pulled her closer, offering the comfort of a warm body to lean on. It was a kind of comfort Minerva had missed ever since the death of her husband.

Feeling Minerva's head carefully resting against her own, Hermione placed a small kiss on the widow's temple. "You don't have to do that now," Hermione whispered. "We have time. If you want, you can show me later or whenever you are ready."

When Minerva was a little calmer, Hermione took the album and placed it on the table. "Come with me." She took the older woman's hand and stood. "A little walk will do you good now. Sometimes some fresh air does wonders."

It was late afternoon and for a change, it didn't rain. Hermione was sure it would help her mentor to put a little space between herself and the memories in that scrapbook. Whether Minerva knew or not, she wasn't ready yet and pushing would do more harm than good.

The older woman took some time to dry her eyes and compose herself, before she stood as well and followed Hermione to the door. Looking at the young witch's rather thin jacket, she asked, "Is that all you had with you? "

When Hermione confirmed her suspicion, Minerva opened the wardrobe in the hall and gave her a thick tweed jacket and a tartan shawl.

A few minutes into the walk Hermione was very grateful for the woman's thoughtfulness. She had always underestimated the icy wind and of course, Minerva knew that. Even at Hogwarts her old professor had given her a scarf more than once during some of the Quiddich games, along with a lecture about thermodynamics.

Having reached a cliff overlooking the dramatic landscape with a loch in front of them, Hermione started shivering, obviously reminding Minerva of the many times she had told the young woman about the Scottish weather. Smiling, she took hold of the lose end of Hermione's scarf and tucked it back in. "You still haven't learned, have you?"

"As long as I have you, I don't need to learn." Hermione squeezed her mentor's cold hand and joined her in overlooking the lake. The wind was cold and it smelled like snow was coming this way.

"Thank you, Hermione." Minerva didn't look at the girl beside her.

"Whatever for?" Hermione asked, unsure what she had done that deserved a rarely given thank you from the normally so stern woman.

"For coming to see me on Christmas. For taking the risk of getting hurt. For..." Now she turned to look at Hermione, her green eyes holding a sadness that tugged at the young witch's heart. "I know I am not very approachable, Hermione."

Hermione watched the elder woman standing in the cold wind that had tugged several graying strands of hair out of the usual bun, solid like a rock. Her walls were equally solid and seemingly as high as the cliff they were standing on. No, Minerva McGonagall was anything but approachable.

"I am here." It was the simple truth. She had gathered her courage and come, not knowing if she would be welcome.

"And I don't know why and what to do with you. I don't know what to…." A sob shook her body and she covered her mouth with a shaking hand as if realizing that her soul mate was dead. "Merlin, why did he leave me? How dare this bloody old fool leave me!" The whisper turned into shouting, so loud that the sound echoed from the bens surrounding them.

She started collapsing under the weight of her sorrow, but Hermione quickly wrapped her arms around the sobbing witch, holding her up. Tears were streaming down her own face. "No, no. Not here," she whispered. "It is too cold. We need to go home."

The words didn't get through. "He left me. I am all alone," she whimpered.

Hermione started rocking the woman in her arms. "You're not alone. Shhh… You'll never be alone. I'm right here."

"He left," the older witch repeated.

Hermione tightened her arms around Minerva's shaking frame. "I know. Darling, I know. He would never have left if he had seen another way. He loved you."

"I don't know what to do. Hermione, I don't know what to do." Hermione had never heard her so desperate before, clinging to her former pupil as if her life was depending on it.

"We'll think of something. I promise, we'll get you through this," Hermione tried to soothe.

They stood like that until Minerva felt Hermione shiver. "You're cold."

Nodding, Hermione wiped her tears before reaching out and gently dried Minerva's cheeks. "Let's go home." They took one last look at the loch and silently walked back. Hermione closed her hand around Minerva's, not wanting her to feel alone.

After a while, Hermione felt her cold hand being squeezed tightly. "I'm sorry."

The young witch returned the pressure on her hand and paused for a moment. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Please don't apologize."

Minerva looked at her and Albus's home in the distance, shaking her head in lack of appreciation. "It was five months ago. I was fine. I don't understand… Why now?"

"You weren't fine, Minerva." Taking her mentor's other hand as well, she explained. " You were just so terribly busy that you didn't have time to grieve until now."

When they reached the house, Hermione helped Minerva out of her jacket and guided her to sit on the sofa. After Minerva magically lit the fire, Hermione asked, "I'll go and get some tea, alright?"

The older woman nodded. "The kitchen is through that door." She vaguely waved her bony, cold hand into the direction of a door Hermione recognized as the one Minerva had brought their tea from earlier.

It worried Hermione a bit that Minerva hadn't moved at all since she had left and she put the tray with the tea on the table. "Minerva," she said, and approached the fragile woman. "Let's get you comfortable, aye? Put your legs up. Yes, that's it." Satisfied, Hermione tenderly tugged the throw that had covered them earlier around the older woman and handed her a cup of steaming hot tea. "Here you go."

Not wanting to put so much space between them by sitting in one of the armchairs, Hermione took her cup and sat on the thick and soft carpet next to the sofa. As if to reassure her mentor that she wasn't alone, Hermione let her right hand rest on Minerva's blanket covered knee.

Watching her former charge sit on the carpet, the older witch started, "Hermione, you don't have to…"

"I know, but I want to," Hermione interrupted. Even as a child she had sat on the floor beside her granny's chair and read a book, wanting to be near her, but give her enough space as well.

They sat in silence for a while, each of them occupied with their own thoughts. Minerva was the first to break the silence. "It was a good idea." At Hermione's confused look she elaborated. "The walk. I feel a little more like a person again. I needed a bit of fresh air."

The young woman smiled understandingly. "I'm glad you think so. It always helped me to clear my head."

"Hermione, you know you don't have to do that, don't you?"

"Do what?" Hermione asked confused.

"Being here. It will be Christmas Eve tomorrow and you should celebrate with your friends."

"I intend to celebrate it with a friend, unless you want me to leave."

"No, of course I don't want you to leave. It is just…." Minerva shook her head and looked at Hermione with a sad, almost embarrassed expression. " Hermione, I don't have any experience with this. I never had any close friends and I have no idea what to do with you."

The proud Head of House was insecure and obviously a little scared at the prospect of having to let someone in. "You don't have to do anything," Hermione soothed. "Just allow it to happen. I have enough experience for both of us and I'm more than willing to teach you the rules of friendship."

"There are rules?" Minerva asked, her lips curling slightly in amusement.

"Oh yes, " Hermione confirmed. "Rule number one: Always be honest."


	3. Chapter 3

"It was his favorite season," Minerva whispered. They had been sitting in silence for a long time; Minerva on the sofa and Hermione on the floor. The elder woman was glad that Hermione didn't try to make her talk. It seemed Hermione was willing to allow her to set the pace, and Minerva was truly grateful for that.

"Really? I am not surprised. In fact, I can imagine him behaving like a little boy while giving you silly presents."

The memories of all the foolish things he ever got her for Christmas brought a happy smile to her face. "Oh yes, I'll never forget the singing hairpins. I didn't notice and wore them in class until they intoned 'Santa Claus is coming to town'! Needless to say he slept on the couch for over a week."

"Did he regret his choice of present?" Hermione asked, already knowing the answer.

"He said it was worth it." Minerva huffed, making Hermione laugh. "That is one of the things I miss so dearly," she said, a sad smile upon her lips. Looking into young questioning eyes, Minerva sighed. "He was full of nonsense. The whole Wizarding world looked up to him, but to me, he was the man who made me laugh."

Hermione silently rubbed her companion's blanket clad leg. She tried to think of an occasion where she had heard a hearty laugh from Minerva, but she couldn't think of one. Of course she had seen her laugh, but never really from the bottom of her heart. Albus Dumbledore must have truly been blessed to see the stern woman so careless.

"Do you know what is the worst?" She looked at Hermione, but didn't wait for an answer the young woman couldn't give. "The emptiness. Sometimes I don't even think that I feel pain. I just feel nothing. Nothing but emptiness." A silent tear escaped green eyes, rolling down the slightly sunken cheek, then stubbornly lingering upon the defined chin before dripping on the blanket.

Hermione remained silent and, not for the first time, tried to think of words she'd like to hear if she'd be in a similar situation and always came back to the same conclusion: she wouldn't want to hear anything, least of all the surely well meant attempts to comfort. What is it one can say in a situation like that? 'Everything will be alright'? 'He wouldn't want you to grieve so much'? Of course there was a truth in both often used statements, but no comfort.

Slowly Hermione unfolded her legs and stood up. "Hey darling, lift your legs for a moment," she said softly and set her cup on the small table.

"Hermione slowly unfolded her legs and stood. Seeing that Minerva was already moving to sit in order to make room for her on the sofa, Hermione gently stopped the elder witch's motions by taking hold of her still blanketed legs. Sitting down upon the sofa, she then pulled Minerva's legs in her lap so that she could remain lying down.

Minerva shifted uncomfortably, obviously not being used to that level of intimacy with anyone, but Hermione slowly started to massage Minerva's legs with her left hand and reached over to take Minerva's slightly shaking hand with her right. She stroked the long, boney fingers with her thumb without looking at her old professor, giving her the chance to grow accustomed to the feeling of having someone so close. Hermione had closed her eyes and used the temporary, voluntary loss of her most developed sense to train her other senses. It took a little while, but soon Hermione could hear the wind in the trees outside and the a-rhythmic clacking of a window shutter on the first floor. For the first time she noticed the ticking of a clock somewhere in the living room and the cracking of the fire. When she listened very carefully she could even hear Minerva's breathing. She must have a slight cold, Hermione mused. A small smile formed on her lips when she smelled the faint hint of lavender and ginger. Even completely blind it would have been a comforting smell to Hermione accompanied with a feeling of safety.

"What are you smiling at?" Minerva asked and gave Hermione's hand a gentle squeeze.

The young woman opened her eyes, finding her friend looking more composed and a little curious. Sometimes it was quite obvious why Minerva's Animagus form was a cat.

"I just found out that you smell so familiar that I would be able to pick you out of a crowd of people even I were blind." She returned the gentle squeeze and smiled softly at her friend.

"Oh dear, I hope I don't have to worry about my hygiene."

Hermione laughed and shook her head. "On the contrary. The unique Minerva smell is an unobtrusive mixture of ginger and lavender; pleasant and comfortingly familiar."

Minerva raised a questioning eyebrow, and Hermione decided to elaborate. "Do you know moments when a certain smell reminds you, often quite unexpected, of something or someone? Lavender and ginger always remind me of you and the few peaceful nights we spent discussing a theory over a cup of tea."

Now it was Minerva's turn to smile. It was so endearing that Hermione had thought of her every now and then. She still couldn't believe how lucky she was to have her favourite child, well – young woman, by her side now. "I do remember those nights. I wish there would have been more, but sadly the times were busy with little time for pleasure. You've been a joy to teach, Hermione." She brought her other hand to cover the younger one still holding hers.

"I'm quite sure that is not what awful, pink toad thought," Hermione said, an amused smile on her lips.

"I dare say not," Minerva agreed, equally amused, " I still can't believe that you've brought her into the Forbidden Forest. I am glad Albus didn't tell me when I woke up, otherwise I'm sure I'd have gotten a heart attack."

"That's what one gets for hurting the Head of Gryffindor House." Hermione rubbed her eyes as if to get rid of the pictures her mind recalled. "I always thought I wouldn't be able to cast an Unforgivable, but when I saw you lying there, fighting for your life, I knew that I could. If you would have died through her hands, I swear I would have skinned her alive." It had been a most disturbing realization back then, but nevertheless true.

Once again Minerva reached out to take Hermione's hand and held it tightly between her own. "The nightmare in pink has been very lucky that I refused to die from the hands of a third class witch then." She carefully pushed the sleeves of Hermione's purple v-neck jumper up and traced a finger over the fading word that had been carved into the young, innocent skin: Mudblood. "Bellatrix was very lucky Molly was quicker than I was," Minerva said and looked into brown eyes. "Do you still suffer from the nightmares?"

Hermione looked caught. "How do you…"

"I've fought in three wars, my dear. I am familiar with the human way to deal with traumatic experiences," Minerva interrupted, bringing Hermione's hand to her lap and holding it there. "I take that as a yes."

Hermione carefully nodded. She was surprised that Minerva would ask her a question not even her closest friends had voiced. "I don't wake up every night anymore, so that could be seen as progress, I guess."

"I am here and willing to listen if you want to talk about it," Minerva offered and seeing the look on her young friend's face, she added, "I know, darling, but as impossible as it may seem to you now, it helps. You can trust me on this."

"I do trust you. It is just… I don't…"

"All I ask of you is to consider coming to me when you wake up at night and tell me. Do not wait until morning. Just come to my room and wake me up." Minerva used her 'no-nonsense' voice, the one that so many generations of pupils feared. She hoped dearly that Hermione would still be impressed by it.

Hermione smirked. "When has this become about comforting me?"

"I am not very familiar with the concept of friendship, but I think I've read somewhere that friends should look after each other." A cheeky grin, something every Hogwarts pupil was sure the woman wasn't able to, graced the older woman's features. "I'm sure there is a rule somewhere about it."

Hermione's hearty laugh filled the room. "You are correct. I knew you'd get the hang of this very quickly. Rule number two: Always take care of each other." In a more serious tone she added, "Thank you. I'll do my best to follow your advice."

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><p><em>Thank you Bola for all your efforts.<em>

_I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please review!_


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